Before leaving San Francisco in December, I purchased a pair of what at the time were the best-fitting jeans I’d ever worn. Handed to me by the clerk at Rolo, with her suggestion that I just try these on, I fell in love with their ideal balance of skinny and not-skinny. I immediately bought them, along with an olive Nice Collective jacket.

Stuck in Heathrow a month later, flipping through the Lonely Planet guide to Stockholm, I saw a mention of Acne jeans, pioneers of the skinny leg. I blinked, and contorted myself to see the label above my butt. Sure enough, Acne. I was headed to Sweden wearing Swedish jeans.

Today I went out to refresh my dwindling supply of jeans without holes in key places. I’m not sure what happens to my pants—bicycling, motorcycling, climbing, dancing, drinking, [falling down]—but they all end up dying a slow death. So shortly before executing an entirely graceless low-speed high-side off the Ducati—my first, and right in front of Desmosport, YES—I paid a visit to Rolo Garage.

Extra bonus shopping win: Before jeans & T-shirt purchase, I went to REI to replace my time and Pista-worn approach shoes. Until March 30, REI is giving members 20% off on any single item. That, and I had a fat dividend to spend. I walked spending less than half of what the Merrells cost new.

In conclusion, I R HAPPY WITH NOT SPENDING THE MONIES. Also, this post brought to you by the letters G, A and Y.

Walking out of the penumbra of the trainwreck that my love life has been for the past six months, it was nice to find this video from The Whitest Boy Alive, simultaneously scratching all kinds of itches—typographic, lyrical and otherwise.